Plus ca change
by Katy has clogs
Summary: When Sirius turns up on Remus' doorstep after the third Triwizard task, it triggers a bout of reflection for both men.


**Author's Note:** A bit of Remus-centric Gen here, set at the end of GoF. Usual disclaimers apply. Many thanks to Halfblood Princess (aka Shield Wolf) for the beta. :)

* * *

**Plus ça change**

"_Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher – the old crowd. Lie low at Lupin's for a while, I will contact you there." _

-x- -x- -x- -x-

Sirius works his way down the British Isles. In a quickly established rhythm of transformation and Apparition, he takes the most circuitous route possible.

_(Hogsmeade, Glasgow, Carlisle, Whitby,_)

This is not a time for recklessness; to be caught now would be disastrous.

_(Manchester, Aberystwyth, Stafford, Rugby_,)

For him,

_(Oxford, Brecon,) _

For Dumbledore,

_(Bedford, Swindon,) _

For Harry

_(Weymouth, Maidstone,) _

And for the Order. But especially for Harry. And it is Harry, after all, who matters the most.

_(Ipswich, Norwich, Cambridge, Leicester.)_

Finally, after all night spent on the move, Sirius is nearing his destination. He arrives in Peterborough, then the small town of Whittlesey, the village of Thorney, the area of fen named Adventurers' Land, and now, at last, he is in the lane outside Restharrow Farm, the fields and dykes around him eerie in the morning mist.

It feels like only yesterday that he was last here and all the same like a long, weary lifetime ago. The place has hardly changed, and yet all is so different.

-x- -x- -x- -x-

Ralph Lupin steals worried glances at his son while spreading marmalade on his toast.

Remus is poring over the 'Prophet' again this morning, as he has done most mornings this year, ever since that nasty incident at the World Cup. When Harry Potter was named fourth Triwizard Champion, Remus finally explained his concerns. He-Who-Must-Not–Be-Named (Remus had of course insisted on using the name, but the mere thought of it makes Ralph shudder) appears to be becoming stronger. What's more, he seems to be plotting something at Hogwarts.

Remus has grown graver as the year has gone on, and this morning the news appears to be particularly bad. A boy has died during the final Triwizard Task (not, thankfully, Potter, but a terrible tragedy all the same) and from the look on his face Remus is not satisfied with the Prophet's account of events.

There is a scratching at the kitchen door, and when it is not opened the scratching becomes more insistent. Ralph moves to investigate, assuming that one of his research projects, the dugbog perhaps, has made another bid for freedom. Remus, however, has finally noticed the noise and steps in front of him to open the door himself, revealing an enormous black dog on the step.

-x- -x- -x- -x-

The news in the 'Prophet' this morning is not good. Remus reads the front page article with concern, unsatisfied by the assertion that Cedric Diggory died as the result of a tragic accident. Diggory was one of his best students, fair and kind-hearted, and it is a sad waste of life that he should die so young. Yet, to a certain extent, Remus is not shocked by his death. Not because Diggory was in any way weak or incompetent (he aced his OWLs, Remus remembers), but because his death is surely related to whatever Voldemort has been plotting, and Remus has half-expected something like this to happen all year.

However, in a move that is rather uncharacteristic, the 'Prophet' has made no suggestion of foul play, nor is the nature of the "accident" described in any detail. The whole thing smacks of a cover-up, but what the purpose of any such cover-up could be is beyond Remus.

As he ponders this mystery, he becomes aware of a scratching at the door and is unsurprised, upon opening it, to find a large black dog. Remus motions the animal inside before taking a quick glance around the yard to check for any observers (though given their remote location, this is fairly unlikely). To the dog, he simply says, "Wait," and proceeds to douse the fire and draw the curtains with a few flicks of his wand.

Remus turns now to his father, who has been watching the scene with curiosity. "Dad, do you remember my old friend Sirius Black?"

-x- -x- -x- -x-

In the seventeen years since Sirius was last in the kitchen at Restharrow Farm, it has changed little overall. The same Victorian floral china still sits on the dresser, books still line every available surface, gathering dust, and Remus and his father sit at the same table, on the same chairs, breakfasting, as they always have done, on toast and marmalade.

There are, however, small differences. The hair of both men is far greyer than it once was, and their faces more lined. (Sirius wonders whether he himself has aged as much as Remus seems to have, but since he's not looked in a mirror for fifteen years, there is no way of knowing.) The books are dustier too and less ordered – in piles now, rather than neat rows – and there are more bottles of ink and parchment littered about. The most noticeable difference, though, is the absence of Remus' mother. Sirius still expects to see her here, even though Remus told him of her death in one of his letters last summer. The house seems less bright, less warm without her. Signs of her still linger though; a pin cushion here, a spool of brightly coloured thread there, the yellow curtains she made still hanging at the window.

Sirius sighs and rests his head on his paws, listening to Remus tell his father the story not only of what happened in the Shrieking Shack last year, but stuff from school, and just afterwards, too: the three of them becoming Animagi, James and Lily going into hiding, everything. He wonders why Remus kept it all to himself for so long (a question also shared by Remus' father, apparently), but Remus was a secretive teenager and has apparently become a very secretive man.

Lying here on the hearth rug, Sirius feels acutely every one of his thirteen years of exile. Much has changed in the world, though many things remain the same, and noticing makes Sirius feel old.

-x- -x- -x- -x-

It is a shock to see Sirius Black in the flesh again, after all these years. Ralph remembers the boy who would turn up spontaneously on the doorstep during summer holidays, often with James Potter and Peter Pettigrew, and tempt Remus into creating chaos with them for an hour or two. He was a good-looking child, who grew into a striking young man with a smile that no doubt broke numerous hearts. Ralph remembers too the charm with which he used to talk himself out of many a sticky situation. A charm that owed as much to his bravery and rather surprising kindness as to the good looks and ease of manner that all charming people possess.

But there now seems little left of that boy with the disarming smile and the quick chatter. This Sirius sits silently at the table and accepts the offer of tea and toast with a hoarse, "Thank you," - the easy ability for small-talk he once possessed has apparently been eroded by twelve years of solitary confinement. His looks remain striking, though they are no longer exactly handsome. The once laughing eyes are now haunted and wary, and he is painfully thin, thinner indeed than Remus, who has always been skinny, particularly in comparison to Sirius' more athletic frame. It is clear from the way Sirius devours the toast that he is starving.

Ralph wonders, not for the first time, how a society that calls itself civilised can sustain a place like Azkaban.

Despite all these noticeable changes in Sirius, the news that he is innocent fits far better with the young man whom Ralph once knew than the idea that he is a mass murderer, the right hand man of You-Know-Who. That Sirius, with his fierce loyalty to his friends and scorn for his family should commit such a betrayal was almost unthinkable. Yet they all believed it at the time, those who knew him assuming that they had been mistaken in his character, deceived, or that the pull of blood and money had finally proven too much.

And it seems that Ralph never knew all the details: that Sirius had seemingly sold the Potters to Voldemort. That Remus kept to himself the knowledge of this apparent betrayal is painfully unsurprising. He was always secretive, and he became more so once he left school. After the Potters' deaths, he spent a year or so travelling in Europe, studying and writing, and they'd heard little from him apart from the occasional deceptively cheery letter. If Ralph has learnt anything in the long time he has known his son, it is that Remus has a tendency to run away, and any attempt to bring him back or change his mind is met with ever increasing stubbornness.

Ralph can tell from the looks passing between the two men that they have things to discuss, concerns to which they do not wish him to be privy. Some things never change.

-x- -x- -x- -x-

The news of the previous night's events takes Remus a little time to digest.

Voldemort is back, Moody was not Moody, Harry barely escaped with his life and Fudge is refusing to believe any of it. It's a lot to take in.

It is clear from the way Sirius speaks about Harry that he cares for him as he would his own child. (A cliché, yes, but don't all clichés contain some truth?) This is a side of him that Remus has not really seen before. Oh, he could be protective of his friends, but this seems to run deeper, springing not from a sense of justice, or even simply love, but from a deep-rooted parental feeling, a desire to put Harry's life before his own. It comes as something of a surprise. No-one who had known Sirius in his youth would have considered him the paternal type. Proud as he had clearly been when asked to be Harry's godfather, he had acted more like an indulgent uncle than a parent, joking about leading Harry astray and buying him a toy broom for his first birthday. Seeing Sirius last year, Remus had thought him suspended in time at age 21, but this is not entirely true. He has grown up, becoming, to a certain extent, responsible.

Remus smiles to himself. Sirius Black, the responsible godfather. Wonders will never cease.

From what Sirius has told him, it appears that Dumbledore wishes to re-form the Order of the Phoenix. Since Fudge is insisting on burying his head in the sand, Voldemort will face no opposition from the Ministry, making any unofficial resistance all the more crucial. Of course, they will have to keep their actions quiet. The fact that the 'Prophet' is already involved in the cover-up indicates how serious Fudge is about his denial, and the Ministry will clearly not take kindly to any of the Order's efforts.

They will need a place to meet, of course, somewhere secret and easily protected. Sirius has already suggested 12 Grimmauld Place, his detested ancestral home, and while the idea certainly has merit, Remus can't help feeling concerned. There's no denying that it's well protected, with Muggle-repelling spells and an unplottable charm and Merlin knows what else. The addition of a Fidelius charm would make it a veritable fortress, more than enough to hide a highly illegal secret resistance movement and Britain's most wanted wizard.

But Remus remembers what Sirius used to be like after even a few weeks at home during the school holidays, and he can't shake the feeling that Sirius, who hates being confined at the best of times, will not cope well with a return to his childhood home. It will be full of ghosts for him, reminding him of the family he so despised and which made his youth so miserable. Being trapped there will be mental torture; forced to be passive, and yet still feeling a responsibility towards Harry and the war, his already damaged mind will surely unravel.

But there is no dissuading him. Remus knows he must tread carefully when suggesting that Sirius or his brilliant plan might be anything less than perfect. He hints at the problems, makes subtle suggestions, trying to persuade Sirius to think this through, but he will not be swayed. With his dismissive, "You were always such a pessimist, Moony," the subject is closed, and Remus knows further arguments would be fruitless. Even at school, once Sirius had settled on a course of action, there was no changing his mind, and while Remus knew this even then, he has always tried. Perhaps the fact that he is not bothering to argue this time is a sign of how _he's_ altered in the intervening years.

Or perhaps it's simply that they have no better options.

It is clear that, while much has changed for both of them, some things will always remain the same. But ultimately, Remus wouldn't have it any other way, because without that bloody annoying stubbornness, that single-minded determination, Sirius would no longer be the friend he once knew. And in any case, Remus thinks there's been enough change in the last year to last him a lifetime.

_Fin_

Thanks very much for reading, if you want to leave a review, that would be lovely. Remember, if you don't review, I don't know you've read it, and in any case, I'd love to hear what you think.


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